


Crossroads of Dreams

by Tlern467



Category: Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: Dreams, Dwarves, F/F, Lyrium, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - The Descent DLC, Red Lyrium, Sensuality, The Fade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 21:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18902587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tlern467/pseuds/Tlern467
Summary: Cadash’s dreams are becoming stronger, more frequent. And she finds new connections in this place between places with Valta.





	1. Chapter 1

Crossroads of Dreams 

Desiree Cadash rubbed her eyes. The dull whispers and faint visions pulsed underneath her eyelids just on the edge of waking, like an image on the fringe of her peripheral vision.  
Sunlight filtered through the open windows of her master bedroom. It was still daytime-good.  
She stood up and walked to her wardrobe. It was good to have choices in her attire now and more important than ever Josephine would always say. 

Today she was supposed to meet with a delegation from Val Rien. A strange name for a human city, roughly translating to City of Nothing. But then again even as Inquisitor, Desiree Cadash could not pretend to understand all the strangeness of humans. She searched through her formal wear, some brought by people close to Vivienne from the finest tailors in Val Royeaux. Or at least that’s what her companion claimed.  
After a bit of deliberation she picked up an indigo and sea blue formal gown and tested its length against her short muscular frame.  
The dress itself was light, certainly lighter than the linen outfit she often wore for long tours of her keep. It swished lightly against her boots. Hidden sequins flashed and shimmered in the sunlight, giving the dress a glow like the rumored gem mines of the forgotten Thaigs. She felt beautiful.  
Tears streamed unexpectedly. Why was she sad? She was the first former Carta member to survive the parting in a long time, and she made a name for herself. Desiree did not consider herself religious like the Chantry sisters, but she couldn’t help believe despite everything else that had happened that she was put in the place she was to make Thedas, maybe even her people, better.  
Yet while Skyhold was home, with dear friends, it wasn’t the same as the roaring fires of the Great Forges, the hidden song of the Stone. That was a homeland all but barred to her now unless her people changed for the first time in centuries. She had not allowed herself the luxury, the vulnerability, to feel beautiful as Inquisitor and now she did. 

The whispers at the edge of her consciousness didn’t disappear either, but thankfully they were not so loud anymore she could think for herself.  
She descended the great stairwell to the throne room.  
“Ah my dear, I see you took my council and chose one of my tailor’s outfits,” Vivienne said in her typical serene fashion, but Desiree could sense there was genuine pride. “You look simply ravishing my dear. Really, we should take you out to balls at Val Firmin more often. You would be the envy of the ball my dear.”  
“I’ll think about that Lady Vivienne,” Desiree said.  
“See that you do my dear.” 

“Lady Cadash, if you would take a seat at the throne we can get started,” Josephine Montilyet said. Her lilting tone was polite, her face a political mask, but Cadash could sense she was uncomfortable with this interaction.  
The people of Skyhold scattered to the door leading to the war room as the delegation from Val Rien approached.  
Six people in identical regalia and identical masks. Each wore a dark blue velvet vest with a fluffy white undershirt, thin nug leather gloves, also dark blue. Their pants were dark blue as well but far less restrictive, meant for easy movement and their shoes were like Orlesian ballad slippers, except turned up at the toe like crescent moons. The masks themselves were not a shape Cadash recognized, certainly not the Valmont Lion.  
“Thank you for seeing us, Lady Inquisitor,” the leader of the group said and bowed at the waist. His accent was not Orlesian though he came from an Orlesian city.  
“My apologies, my lady. I am not Orlesian as you can tell. We are a traveling group of storytellers from all over Thedas.”  
“Storytellers,” Cadash said.  
“Yes your ladyship. We sensed the currents in the wind you hear but do not listen to, so we have come to warn you.”  
We’re they talking about the whispers?  
“Yes my lady, the whispers. The visions,” he said.  
“I cannot understand them.”  
“My mistress feared that would be so,” he replied. “But the message is important. My mistress Valta is in danger. I do not know the extent. But you must heed the warnings and go after her-an ancient power is hunting for the Titan and hunting her. Whoever or whatever it is means to hide it’s tracks. Our entire group will be slaughtered by the morning as the dreams say. But it does not know you have the hidden whispers yet, so does not understand the threat you are yet. Please, we beg of you-next time you dream-heed the whispers before it is too late.”  
“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Cadash said.  
“We are sorry my lady, as is Valta,” the man said. He bowed again. “May we rejoin you again in the Place Between Places.” 

The people there waited for the group to leave the throne room before gathering around the throne.  
“Well, I’m not sure what to make of that,” Josephine said.  
“I would discount it as superstitious nonsense my dear, but it can’t hurt to check it out either. Just remember even a small fire is a fire.”  
The group from Val Rien did seem to know a lot about the whispers and visions, most unintelligible, pulsing in her mind.  
Valta needed help, and according to them she was the only one able to do so.  
She would just need to sleep and dream again.


	2. Chapter Two-Whispers in Lyrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desiree Cadash dreams and finds herself in a mysterious place that is not the Fade but very close where lyrium whispers and red lyrium sings and old memories are stirred up, some best left forgotten and undisturbed.

Chapter Two-Whispers in Lyrium 

Cadash knew she was dreaming based on the descriptions surface dwellers told her and her own experiences in the raw Fade. But even still, she wasn’t quite expecting this. 

The place she was in was blue everywhere with veins of living crystal pulsing wherever it could take root. There was a hush here, a tranquil quiet much like the place Morrigan took her to within the Eluvian that she called the Crossroads. 

But this tranquil quiet was different even still, not like the ruins of a place that had long outlived its glory like the Ancient Elves’ Crossroads. 

She heard whispers just on the edge of understanding, and then a slow melody like the hymn of the very earth itself. 

Cadash pushed forward, her footsteps making the floor, if it could even be called that, shimmer like disturbed puddles of water. The hymn grew stronger the further she pushed in. As if in angry protest, so did the whispers. 

The Anchor on her hand throbbed in distress, as if itself displeased with the workings of this strange place. 

Then she emerged to what she could only describe as a majestic ballroom. Ancient, powerful from a time long since lost. It did not have the feel of the Orlesian finery, or the Ancient Elves and their gods.   
Shadows in humanoid form flickered back and forth, searching for something before disappearing and reappearing. Spectral couples danced in unfamiliar regalia. A man with an ornate beard and a beautiful lady beside him in the finest silks.   
Both were...Dwarves. A bit taller, perhaps. But still...her people. 

What did this mean? Was she seeing something from the time before the First Blight? She couldn’t even imagine a time without Darkspawn 

The shadows appeared again, growing more distinct. They were Qunari, searching for something. Lead by a fierce lady warrior whose blue eyes may as well have been Sapphire fire. 

“Oh good, you got my message,” Valta said from somewhere. “I’m deeper in. You’ll find me deeper in.”   
“What’s going on?”   
“The short story? The Titans are sleeping-the one that woke up only did so because it felt itself in danger. They told me it’s better they never awaken-something terrible will happen if they’re brought back to the Lightsea, what you and I call the surface. But those strangers are going between the Doors between Doors of the Ancient Elves, delving and burrowing into the Deep Roads. They’re looking for something, and in the looking Im afraid they’ll try and use the Titans. You must come to me quickly, we have to stop them and the whispers of the red blood.”   
“I’m coming. How can I reach you?”   
“Beyond the visions of our past. The Titan dreams won’t hurt you, the Titans recognize you. Just be careful the strangers do not see you, and don’t listen to the whispering song of the red blood too closely. I’ll see you soon I hope.” 

Cadash’s heart quickened at the thought of seeing Valta again. 

She did as she was bid, passing past etherial visions of her people’s long lost glory, great battles with the Darkspawn at now forgotten Thaigs.   
Then she came to a crossroads of sorts that made her pause. She felt a chill course up and down her spine.   
To the left was a dark opening to a ruined Thaig, to the right a meandering path full of broken wagons, flame and an imposing white tower.   
“Desiree,” a cool sing song voice whispered. It came from the foreboding entrance to this Thaig. Ancient music, but discordant. There were other voices that added to the lyrical invitation, her parents who gave her up to the Carta when she was a child, the cruel mockery of Vince Galvan-her overseer within the Carta. They swelled in feverish, insistent pitch until Desiree Cadash felt her sanity just on the edge of breaking   
“Don’t listen to them. You’re almost there, Desiree. You’re almost safe.” Valta’s voice. She reached for it instinctively like a drowning woman does a lifeline. She let it guide her past the barrage of song, mockery and broken promises, beyond imitations of their former majesty. It guided her battered psyche past searching shadows, never getting too close.   
She did not know how long she wandered in that hall of dreams, whispers and maddening song until she felt the atmosphere change.   
Desiree Cadash looked up and broke into tears. Valta was there in the flesh, a woman she thought she would never see again.   
Valta rushed over to her and gave her the biggest hug she had gotten in some time.   
“I’m so sorry. I would’ve never had you go through that if the Titans didn’t need help immediately.”   
“I thought I lost you.”   
“For a time you did,” she said. “Then the Titans decided I was needed here. With you,” she said.   
Then Desiree was surprised when Valta kissed her on the lips. There were tears in her eyes too.   
And here in this place, Desiree was back among her people. Back with the woman she loved, and who loved her.   
She knew together they could save their beloved Titans. No, not could. They had to.   
Desiree kissed her back and the two held each other, letting their tear soaked cheeks touch. Together in the peaceful silence. No whispers, no song, no haunted memories.


	3. Chapter 3-Red Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valta and Desiree are together. They come against more visions-these less than friendly. And hints of the fever madness of the Red Lyrium

Chapter 3-Red Blood 

Valta finally broke away, as if a diver gulping air. She smiled and laughed. 

“I’m really glad you’re here with me,” she said. “I didn’t think I’d be lonely deep within the Titans’ dream world. But I was.” 

“I’ve missed you so much.” 

The air thrummed. Music assaulted the two lovebirds, a cacophony of distorted notes and urgent whispers just on the edge of hearing. The assault on their senses seemed to go on indefinitely before it abruptly silenced. 

“The Titans are in trouble,” Valta said. “Come on, we have to hurry.” 

Desiree let Valta tug her hand and guide her down hallways and paths that weren’t quite there. The deeper they went, the more the colors shifted. It was a fierce green, like the green of leaves but intense. Almost so intense Desiree felt like she was on the verge of tears. The whispers continued, but they were less anxious here even though there were more than ever. 

“Can you hear it Desiree?” Valta said. She never let her love’s hand go. “The whispers of our people-or what our people once were.”   
“What about the Sha-Brytol?”   
“I’m not sure. They’re connected to the Titans somehow, but...it’s different. I’m sorry, I’m not making much sense am I?”   
“Are we in the Stone?”   
“Kind of. It’s like the Stone, only purer here than it was in Orzammar. This is close to where the Titans dream-very close.”   
“But not the dream world?”   
“No.”   
“Where was that awful place I passed? That Thaig?”  
“The Titans say it’s the beginning place. Where all the wrong things from the red blood took root before spreading to the surface.”   
“Kirkwall?”   
“Yes. That Thaig is a place the Titans want to forget but they can’t, because it’s part of them. It’s a part of the wildness of the Ancient past.”   
They went deeper. This time Desiree could catch glimpses of words and meaning from the whispers.   
Finally they came to a bridge over what looked like a river of green fire coursing like loosed electricity between alcoves of stone.   
Figures were on the other side of the bridge, silhouettes still. But these silhouettes exuded an air of danger. Their eyes were like cut rubies that flashed and sizzled with malevolent intent.   
Just as they were about to cross the bridge, they were hit by the barrage of sound. This time, the music was much more menacing.   
“Red...blood,” the silhouettes chanted. “We wait, we hunger, we thrive. Red blood.”   
The figures all moved together like marionettes pulled on a string.   
“Red...blood. Reunion. Reunion.”   
Then they disappeared out of sight, and the music let up enough for the two to catch their breath and continue across the bridge. 

Desiree lost track of time, if time even passed here in this strange place. It throbbed with life and energy. But as they followed after the strange figures, the color started to gradually change. 

Wisps of black carried over like smoke.   
“Desiree, Desiree,” whispers said clearly. But these whispers were eager, almost hungry. Hints of red crept into the verdant green. This red would only grow stronger until almost all signs of the lively green were gone.

Now they were in a massive hall with the great archways of the forgotten thaigs. Crystals of red lyrium clustered everywhere like a disease. 

And in the center of the hall was a magnificent anvil. The figures chanted Reunion as they were drawn toward the Anvil. 

Desiree and Valta could only watch in horror as each figure walked in procession toward its doom. One would kneel, the golden hammer would raise. Then, like a criminal under the headsmans axe, the figures would rest their head against the stone of the anvil.   
“Reunion,” they’d repeat. The hammer would raise a little higher then come swooping down. The figures would crumple lifeless, as the hammer drew wisps of essence from their broken forms and send the essence flying.   
“Uh oh.”   
The essence sank into great creatures of stone covered in growths of red lyrium. These massive creatures sluggishly animated into new life-if one could call it that.  
Desiree felt the fear quicken her pulse and even Valta was afraid.   
The Golems swiveled their great stony heads. Their eye sockets gleamed with red baleful light.   
“Reunion,” the golems growled. 

The Anvil pulsed hungrily. The crystals themselves seemed to hum in anticipation.   
“Ready yourself,” Valta said. She let go of Desiree’s hand and drew her two axes.   
Desiree drew her sword and positioned herself just to the side of Valta.   
The golems lumbered forward.   
It was do or die


	4. Chapter 4-The Anvil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desiree and Valta are deep in the heart of the Anvil and the beginning of the Reunion when an unexpected friend arrives, and more weird things happen to Desiree Cadash.

Chapter 4-Anvil 

The golems lumbered forward on uneasy legs, the spirits occupying the stone bodies unused to the new gait of these massive weapons of war. 

“That must’ve been an Anvil. I thought the Hero of Ferelden destroyed the only one a decade ago...” Valta said.  
“Apparently not,” Desiree said.  
“Careful not to get flanked,” Valta said. “I’ll take right, you take left.” 

They squeezed in tight together, their backs pressed so there was not a single gap. It’d be a tough fight-six golems against two.  
The golems continued to advance, seemingly spurred on by the hungry Anvil.  
“Reunion,” the golems chanted in grating stone deep voices. “Reunion.”  
“Oh good, more golems. Didn’t you say we got rid of them last time Varric?”  
“Did I? Hmm. Might’ve been in one of my stories...”  
Desiree turned her attention from the advancing constructs to see...  
Hawke!?  
Sure enough, the blonde haired Champion of Kirkwall was there in the flesh, Varric beside her.  
“I know, you’re wondering what happened to me. I think that can wait until after this, don’t you?”  
“Did I mention weird shit happens to you regularly?”  
“All the time Varric,” Desiree chuckled.  
The golems inched closer. 

Hawke took the front, wedged between her and Valta with her Kirkwall mace and shield. Varric stood just off to the side with a wide enough view to safely use Bianca-his crossbow, not the person. 

The golems continued to lumber forward. “Reunion.”  
“Talkative,” Hawke said. “Get ready!” 

The battle began in a frenzy of activity. Varric shot his crossbow, a bolt slamming into a golem’s red eye. The other golems screamed in rage as the first toppled backward. It continued to bat at its injured face, and got within reach of the Anvil. Suddenly it was swept off its gigantic feet literally and pulled toward the glowing Anvil. The golems was there one moment, then pulled into the golden light and disintegrated into grains of salt and nothing else.  
“O-kay,” Varric muttered. 

The actual encounter itself was short lived. If a golem got too close to Valta or Desiree, either beat them back in a frenzy of blows. Hawke took the brunt of the punishment. Her shield battered at the Ancient war machines when they swung and her blocking stunned them. Varric got a few good in the face and chest. Those fell down and never got up again.  
A couple got staggered backward enough that the Anvil fed. Then the remainder were hacked away with the three fighter’s combined strength. 

The Anvil hummed and sent out a blast of wind.  
“Get behind me! Now!!” Hawke shouted.  
The battered party nestled in close and Hawke screamed with battle rage, bringing up her shield.  
The wind howled around them in a fearful tempest-a fight between wills. Who would win-the Anvil or Hawke?  
Desiree looked down at her arms as Varric muttered Maker’s breath. The spots where the raw lyrium from the Guardian fight touched her now pulsed once, twice.  
Then she felt the energy of the lyrium swell like a great river and plunge into her.  
“Daughter,” a kind, primeval voice said. “The Reunion cannot happen. It must not be.”  
She was confused.  
“First, you must destroy the Anvil.”  
How? Her thoughts echoed in a question.  
“Use the lyrium Fire coursing in you. Tap it, control it. Focus your will on the Anvil and our blood’s cleansing flame will eradicate the corruption.”  
She steadied her breath and did as the presence asked, calming her mind and focusing her thoughts like a spearhead.  
NOOOO! The Anvil railed, the inhuman voice hammering at her focus.  
“Focus,” the presence said, soothing. “Focus my child.”  
The Anvil raged.  
But she didn’t care anymore. She let the blood fire sweep through her, beyond her.  
It rallied at the Anvil, and the Anvil pushed back.  
She was suddenly taller than she had ever been before and felt the kindness of her ancestors. Was this what Dagna meant?  
She pushed hard against the block, harder. Then when it shuffled away and disintegrated-Desiree was also carried away into the raging inferno, the currents of thought and will. She was not herself, she was more than herself. 

“Desiree, Desiree can you hear me?”  
Her thoughts were sluggish, like a diver deep beneath the sea.  
“Please be there, please. I can’t lose you again.”  
Lose me? Desiree thought. She didn’t understand.  
“Go to her Daughter,” the voice said. “It’s not yet time to walk the timeless paths. For either of you. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”  
Then her eyes snapped open and she gasped in air.  
“Oh thank goodness!” Valta said in obvious relief and kissed her.  
“Did I say weird shit happens to you? Yeah.”  
Desiree laughed. She felt more aware, more whole than she had ever been before. Like barriers had broken down.  
Was she-was she feeling the Fade?  
What’d it mean?  
“Yes Daughter,” the voice said. “You and Valta are both connected to your true selves as you were long ago. You can walk our paths and the aetherial paths. You stopped the Anvil. The Reunion isn’t stopped yet.”  
What-?  
“There will be time for answers later. For now, you must be aware in your own time and place. We will speak again soon Daughter.”  
Then she was aware both her and Valta were crying tears of relief. Had Valta heard something similar to her? What did it mean?  
“This is making my head hurt,” Desiree said.  
“It’s making my head hurt thinking about the weird shit you do.”  
“No stranger than our adventures Varric. Glad to see you among the land of the living Inquisitor.”  
“That’s not my title any more.”  
“Oh I think it is,” she said. “Just like our friend researching the Blight is the Hero of Fereldan and I’m the Champion of Kirkwall. We are what Thedas requires of us my friend.”  
Hawke offered up a hand, and Desiree took it.  
“Now, lets get you both to Skyhold. There’s lots of people worried about you. I’d swear Dorian and Leliana were more birds than people the way they paced when you disappeared for five days.”  
Had it really been that long?  
Valta shrugged.  
Varric gestured and took the lead. Valta walked by her side, Hawke in the middle of the procession.  
Back home.


End file.
